


The case of the Impudent Improplayer

by HedgehogWrites



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Case Fic, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, F/M, Oral Sex, Other: See Story Notes, Smut, also happy endings, dark endings, improv theatre, not telling too much but please read notes on each ending, wall pushing, you can choose! - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-03 02:18:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16317263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedgehogWrites/pseuds/HedgehogWrites
Summary: One case, five different endings. A murder takes place in a small theatre group. Sherlock joins the actors to find out who did it. You, the reader, get to choose which ending is the most fitting,Sherlock joins our little group of actors. A bit grudgingly at first, but he’s on a case. An important case. He thinks one of us has done someone in. Just as I suspected, Sherlock likes being in control. Not only of the investigation, but also in the bedroom. Interesting...Meet Sue White, an innocent looking, teasing improv theatre actor with a pain kink and a slight craving for submission. Only when she gets to be disobedient, that is.





	1. How to solve the case of the impudent impro player

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here it is. My first fanfiction ever. I hope you'll enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> I would love feedback, but please be kind as:  
> 1\. English isn't my native language  
> 2\. I don’t have a beta  
> And  
> 3\. It’s my first fanfiction. Ever.
> 
> In real life I’m a happy, innocent lass, but it turns out my pen has a dark mind of its own... So heed the tags please. The first part is a smutty case fic with some darkish non-con fantasy in it, but everything in part one is purely, 100% consensual. 
> 
> You get to choose your own ending, which aren’t all quite as consensual as the start of the story. I’ll add warnings in the notes.
> 
> If you have a nice idea for an extra ending, feel welkome to leave it in the replies. I’ll try to write it!

<<\------*-@-*----->>

**The introduction of the Crunchy Chihuahuas**

Sherlock joins our little group of actors. A bit grudgingly at first, but he’s on a case. An important case. He thinks one of us has done someone in.

But wait, this is going way too fast, I apologize. I’ll start introducing us first.

My name is Sue. Sue White. I’m an actor in a improvisation acting group, called the Crunchy Chihuahuas. We are a well known and well liked troupe of eight. Our party travels all over England and Europe, sleeping in different cities almost every week. We create our scenes spontaneously, our dialogue is always unscripted and created collaboratively by us, the players. The audience helps us build scenes, for instance by giving us an emotion to play a scene in. We play a lot for students, who are under the impression horny is an emotion too. But hey, that comes with the job...

The Chihuahuas are in impro alliteration order:

  * \- Assertive Adam, our oldest member and founder of the Chihuahuas, tries to be our dominant leader, which makes him clash with Tom quite often

  * \- Benjamin Brandon, our young and cute intern

  * \- Luxurious Lily Anne, our posh lady, who loves secondhand expensive clothes and only drinks from crystal glasses

  * \- Melodramatic Megan, our emotional drama queen

  * \- Mysterious Mickey, our naughty little vamp, also my best friend

  * \- Reliable Raul, our Spanish Adonis, with a strong chin line that would make Ken jealous

  * \- Sweet Sue, that’s me! I’m an innocent looking thrill seeker. I’ve co-founded the Chihuahuas with Adam

  * \- Troublesome Tom, our cruel eyed dangerous one, who would love Adam’s position




We trust each other, knowing the others won’t gag (which is blocking a scene in impro slang) or cross each other’s line... at least not too far. All of us get along quite nicely. At least we thought we did, until that dreadful day. The day Adam died. 

<<\------*-@-*----->>

**A death takes place**

I quite like Adam. He is my favorite fellow player. When we are on stage together, we sparkle. Adam’s bold, dominant presence and my flirtatious, mischievous innocence create fireworks.

The audience loves seeing us fight, making out, making up or hurt each other. We savor it too, in particular the ones in which we literally harm each other. We both have a little (did I say little? I deduce I’m lying) painkink.

Unfortunately for me, Adam is, as he phrases it, "gayer than the front row of a Celine Dion concert", otherwise we would’ve made a dangerously great couple.

That dreadful evening we have an enjoyable party. We just got an exclusive contract for Britain’s grandest summer festivals. Adam joins our modest gathering, but his head is unquestionably elsewhere. He keeps on smiling goofy smiles and checking his phone when he thinks no one is watching. We’re drinking and toasting to our success.

Suddenly Adam gets up. ‘I’m having a colossal headache’, he tells us.

I suspect something a bit more south of his head is colossally aching, judging by his eager smiles and the bulge forming in his tight trousers.

‘Be safe, stallion’, I wink at him. His dark brown eyes look at me, the corner of his lip quivers with a barely suppressed smirk. He knows I can read him like no other.

‘I will if you do too.’ He replies as he walks away.

‘Adam, wait!’ Raul yells and follows him, like he always does. Raul is our reliable, Spanish Adonis. He looks like he’s carved out of marble, but he isn’t nearly as tough as the stone. The poor sod has the worst, unreturned, crush on Adam. Of course Adam isn't interested in someone so soft, he wants a danger Raul will never be capable of ministering.

‘Not tonight, Raul.’, Adam tells him, as he gently pushes him away. Raul stands still in the middle of the hallway, looking heartbroken. He slowly walks away, not looking back at us or Adam. The poor thing.

With Adam and Raul gone, the party soon reaches its end. Tom leaves too, Megan, Lily Anne and Brandon exit shortly after.

That leaves Mickey and me. Mickey, my oldest and dearest friend. With her long, auburn hair, her emerald green eyes, her endless legs and her golden freckles, Mickey transpires mystery. Men, woman, no one’s immune to her fairylike spell. Mickey can have anyone, but she wants Tom.

‘Why Tom?’ I ask her, because he sometimes gives me the creeps, with his intense stares and his cool, calculating grey eyes.

‘It’s his arrogance’, she tells me (swooning) ‘and I like the danger he emits. It makes me want to shag him senseless. He will never want to be with another woman after I’m done with him’. Modesty isn’t one of Mickeys qualifications, not to mention she knows no shame.

I raise my glass. ‘To senseless shagging!’ I giggle.

We drink more Gin and tonics than is good for us. When I am severely pissed, Mickey asks me: ‘What about you? Who knocks your socks off?’.

I frown, not liking the question,because my love life has been a bit... uhm... non-existent of late. Not because I don’t want to, but because of lack of interest from a certain fucking brilliant posh lad.

'Well, I’d absolutely would relish a tall man with curly hair, mysterious cheekbones and a voice that could make you come from the sound alone.' The words topple out of my tipsy mouth before I can stop them.

She sniggers. ‘You already know him, right?’ Of course I deny and of course she doesn’t believe me.

‘What would you do with him, if you could?’ I blush severely. The things that dirty little mind of mine comes up with.

Mickey raises an eyebrow. ‘That bad, eh? Go conquer that man. The lucky bastard, make sure you’ll shag his freaking brains out’. We giggle again.

Little do I know that my much desired cheekboned man will be entering our lives (and me, but more of that later) very quickly.

Just before reaching an alcohol induced stupor, we waggle upstairs fucking plastered. I have difficulty with the elevator buttons. Why do they keep changing place? When I get off, I feel dizzy and collapse on the floor. Mickey helps me up, giggling and hushing. We unlock our door.

‘Adam? Why are you on our bed?’ Mickey asks, while she walks up to the bed. Adam is bent in an unnatural manner, his once beautiful dark eyes glazed over.

‘Mickey...’ I hold her back. She looks again an starts screaming, her slender body moves uncontrollaby. She might contaminate the crime scene, I think. It has to stop.

I slap her, to get her out of it. Her hysterical fits turn into silent sobs. ‘We have to call the police.’ I tell her softly. I wrap my arm around her, to calm her down. She leans into me. Together we wait for the cops to arrive.

While waiting I notice things. For one, Adam’s phone is missing, which strikes me as odd. Adam is glued to his phone, he would never have voluntarily given it up. Secondly I can see bruising forming on his neck. Thirdly the room looks a lot cleaner than when we left it, like someone thoroughly removed anything incriminating.

<<\------*-@-*----->>

**Investigation**

The police arrive and tell us they think he’s been strangled to death. It doesn’t come as a surprise, since I already saw the bruising. There’s a nasty forensics expert present. 'Look at the fucking queer', he mumbles. 'Got it coming to him, probably had a hot tinderdate that went wrong. These gay fuckers make me want to throw up'

'Maybe you should refrain from deep throating next time? Normal sucking won’t make you gag, you know.’ Mickey replies, her green eyes blazing with fire. I snigger. He looks at us disturbed, eyes lingering a few moments too long at our breasts. He continues his investigation. ‘Stupid lesbian bitch' he mutters under his breath.

The forensic expert diverts his attention to the lock. 'The room was neatly locked, only you two had the key.’ He looks at us suspiciously. ‘Where were they?’ I point at my pocket.

‘So the keys were in the pocket of your dress? That makes it evidence.’ He tells me, as he looks me up and down. Is this filthy ass seriously checking me out? At a crime scene?!

'You'd better take off that dress. It will look better in our evidence locker'. He grins his teeth bare and smacks his lips.

'Oh yeah, it would. But I think it will look even better crammed up your windpipe' I reply. It’s Mickey’s turn to snigger.

Does this asshole seriously thinks he can get anyone in his bed with these bad lines and homophobic remarks? I want to smack the grin right of his lips, but luckily an older police officer tells him to get on with his ‘sodding’ job and leave us ‘the fuck’ alone.

The room is swiped clean, no evidence to be found, the doors are locked and only we have the keys. Which are in our pockets. This doesn’t sound good.

Lucky for us, Mickey has been flirting with the bartender. He tells the police that we were at the bar, drinking all night. But I’ve got a feeling we’re not of the hook yet. 

That’s why I call on Sherlock. I help him out sometimes when he needs someone to play bait, during which I've developed a nice, big crush on the cocky, posh know-it-all.

<<\------*-@-*----->>

**The cheekboned man**  

Sherlock has put me through quite an ordeal. Once Sherlock’s schemes almost cost me my throat. I’m quite attached to that throat. I kinda like how it supports my head. Thank goodness I once was European junior lightweight champion in judo, so together with Sherlock I managed to overpower the culprit. The fight left me rather banged up. Seeing me all bruised up unnerved Sherlock, but I'm not sure why. Though I might have a little theory I'm dying to explore.

I figure he owes me one. ‘Sherlock’, I ask as I call him, ‘we’re having the slightest bit of trouble here’. I elaborate on what happened.

‘Bored’, he replies. ‘Stop bothering me’. Ouch, a bit not good, Sherlock!

‘Okay, I think I’ll call that cute forensics expert who flirted ever so delightful with me’ I tell him, ‘because this challenge is way over your puny detective's head. I think his superior deductive powers will have a much better chance of solving it. Maybe I’ll give him a proper reward when he rids us off suspicions. Maybe I’ll even let him have his way with me’.

He snorts. ‘You do realize I know you are trying to lure me out?’ 

‘Is it working?’ I ask with as much innocence as I can muster.

‘No, but as I’ve not forgotten your invaluable help in the Sanders case, I’ll help you out this time. Out of the goodness of my heart’.

This time I snort. ‘I know you, Sherlock. You don’t do random acts of kindness. Certainly not for free’.

‘Well, I’ll let you know if I want to claim the merits you offered that buffoon Anderson.’

‘Who?’

‘The, in your words, “Cute forensics expert”.’

What is he implying?

‘Exactly that, Miss White.’ I hear him smirking through the phone. I swallow hard. When did it become so hot in here?

‘Tomorrow, rehearsal time, eleven o’clock’ I tell him with a lump in my throat.

 

My colleagues are pleased with such a prompt replacement, especially a ravenous looking one like Sherlock. I introduce him as Martin. 

Mickey immediately knows he’s the one I talked about extensively during our little gin and tonic induced meeting. Her pixie like green eyes have an impish glint in them. Luckily she decides to keep silent, but I know she’s brooding. It’s written all over her ethereal face.

‘Hello’, Sherlock greets us in his low pitched voice.

Lily Anne and Brandon swoon over Sherlock the minute he opens his mouth. Sherlock looks at me and raises his eyebrows. ‘Well, obviously’, he mouths. The selfsure prick, I think as I look at his lips. I wonder what other things that luscious mouth is capable of. I see the corners of his lips creep up a bit. Flustered, I look up. Shit, he knows...

The others get ready for our warming up. Sherlock and I linger in the kitchen. To have something to do, I pour out a cup of water (the tea isn’t drinkable here, but like hell I’m telling that arrogant sod this). ‘What do you think about the theatre magic, so far?’ I ask him.

‘Do you know that the magic in theatre happens because of an increase in dopamine and an adrenaline rush? That’s what makes you perform better when there’s an audience, thus creating a magic atmosphere. Do you also know that the same neurotransmitter is released during pleasurable sex, and it floods your brain during an orgasm? Also something I assume you might perform even better at when there’s an audience.’

I cough and splutter my drink all over me. His lips curl up in amusement. ‘I didn’t think you’d hold your liquor that badly’, he tells me.

I glare at him, eyes shooting daggers. He gets a towel and starts drying me off. His hands are at my neck just a little longer than is socially acceptable. Hmm... This is unexpected.

<<\------*-@-*----->> 

**Practice makes perfect**  

Of course entering our little group as interim player means Sherlock has to do some acting himself. He joins our daily rehearsals. We always start by setting scenes for each other. One player tells the other players their role, where they are and what they are doing. It’s up to the players to improvise a scene.

Sherlock looks at me. ‘No circumventing this one, I presume?’.

‘Nope’, I tell him, ‘just let it wash over you. It’s a bit like playing a drinking game at secundary school’.

‘A what?’

‘Never mind, I forgot you don’t socialize. Just sit next to me and follow my lead, okay? You’re a good actor, you’ll be fine.’

‘Oh, I have no doubt about that’, he replies smugly. The self-righteous bastard.

We sit in half a circle for our practice. Brandon orders Megan to play a death scene at a stage. She loves it. Megan, our blonde, graceful drama queen, should’ve been a ballet dancer, so she could’ve been the dying swan in the swan lake over and over again.

 

Sherlock and I are next. Tom let’s us play out a couple fighting when cleaning out the attic, while insulting each other with alliterations.

Sherlock gets on stage. He picks up stuff and throws it at my head, while making the most outrageous accusations.

‘Look what you did! You broke thevase my mother gave us! You bullying baboon!’ I cry.

‘You didn’t even like that vile vase. You hypocritical hippo!’ He throws more stuff. 

‘You lying lizard!’

‘You imbecilic insect, you ludicrous louse, you trivial termite, you witless wasp, you obnoxious owlfly, you moronic maggot, you daft dung beetle!’ Leave it to Sherlock to insult me with this many animal alliterations in one sentence. Did I mention they’re all insects?

‘That’s it! I’m going to my maniac mother! I yell.

‘Yes, you do that. Go to the meddling mantis, you complaining catfish!’ He looks frenzied, like he’s about to hit me. I feel a strange heat emanating in my stomach and I blush a bit. Our mock fight shouldn’t turn me on. Right?

Crying I stamp of stage. ‘You shitty shrimp!’

‘Leaving lemming, departing donkey, fleeing ferret!’ He throws a last book at my head. ‘I’m going to make a comforting coffee now. Bye bye, you bitching bookworm!’ Sherlock exits stage too.

People are laughing. He’s made a fool of me, but I don’t mind. Actors, especially of my trade, shouldn’t take themselves too seriously. Besides, it's my turn to outline the next scene. Insert revenging maniacal laughter here.

 

I set Raul and Sherlock up as client and hairdresser, fighting over the same man. 'You’re welcome!’ I snigger at Sherlock. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. 

They make a great scene though. It’s hilarious, especially when Sherlock is pulling Raul’s hair. Sherlock lets out a little sigh, easily missed by the untrained ear.

Back in the circle, I murmur almost inaudible: ‘Wow, you must really want to be a hairdresser, or did you leave a comb in your pocket?’ as I give his crotch an unembarrassed scrutinizing look.

He hisses in my ear: ‘I’ll get you for this, you know’ and gives me a smoldering look. I don’t for a second doubt it.

 

Next round Megan thinks it’s time we stepped it up a notch. She sets Tom as a murderer, he’s got to kill copper me as I’ve witnessed him kill my partner. We both enter the stage. I expect this'll be an intense scene, so I ground my feet, shake my hands and get into my neutral emotion. Sue White, ready to rock the stage. 

‘You shouldn’t have watched that, you know.’ He sighs. ‘Now I have to make the effort of killing you too, you inconsiderate pig’. Tom pierces me with his cool eyes.

‘I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to put you through this’. My voice wavers, my hands fidget with the hem of my dress.

‘It’s a bit too late for remorse now, is it. Look at what your actions make me do’, he tells me in a quiet voice, as he steps closer. I gasp.

I try to grab my make-believe gun, but he’s too quick. He swipes the gun away with a mere flick of his hand. His hands grab my throat. ‘Why don’t you start begging and screaming for mercy like the others did? It makes it more pleasurable for me, you know’ His eyes are cruel.

I start sobbing. ‘I beg you, please don’t kill me. You’d orphan 25 cats, one of them just had little kittens. They’re called Tom and Mickey’. Sniggers from the audience, but I realize I’m gagging the scene. Quickly back into character! My shoulders slump down and I whisper ‘I’m so sorry. I’m such an inconvenience.’

‘Oh yes, you are.’ His hands fake-press a bit harder. I scream. My long legs give way and my hands grasp his, in a useless effort to pry them loose.

'Please let me go. It hurts. Please please please, let me go'. I reduce my voice to a croaking whisper.

'Why would I do that? I'm having so much fun.' Tom chuckles a most terrifying chuckle.

Gasping, I fall on the floor. He’s one cruel, scary bastard in this scene, his eyes borderline insane. I lay silently as Tom lets go. He kicks me and smoothens his hair.

‘Serves you right, you thoughtless slut. Now, where’s my sandwich? I hate being disturbed while eating.’ He exits the stage, leaving me crumpled on the cold stage floor.

There’s an ear deafening silence in the room when we finish. The scene leaves quite an impact, since this is exactly how poor Adam met his end. I can feel everyone is thinking about it.

When I get up from the floor, I look at Sherlock. He’s gotten his fists clenched at his sides and looks at me darkly. Does he think Tom did it? Or is he observing the other members of our party? Then why is he looking this intensely at  me ? Was he... anxious? No, that’s not it. He looks... longing?

With Sherlock sitting next to me again, I think: ‘I bet you would really like to perform that scene with me, have control over me, don’t you?’.

‘Be careful what you wish for, I just might be tempted by your offer’ he breaths in my ear, eyes a shade darker than normal. Shit, did I just say that out loud?!

<<\------*-@-*----->>

**Mischief leads to unexpected mayhem**

We wrap our practice up with a scene in a convincing emotion. When it’s my turn, Mickey looks at me with sparkling, mischievous eyes. ‘I want you to play a passionate scene’, she says. ‘You have two minutes to make us believe you’re sexually attracted to ... him’. She points at Sherlock. Of course she points at Sherlock. The otherworldly wench! She knows exactly how I feel about him. Why do this? 

I look at her. ‘Senseless shagging time!’, she mouths. I roll my eyes and clear my throat.

‘Sher... uh... Chèr Martin’, I tell him through fluttering eyelashes, ‘you know I always liked you. You’re the most exciting man I’ve ever encountered. You’re courageous, fucking brilliant and unpredictable. With you there’s never a dull moment. You know just what you want and don’t hesitate to get it’. Does he? I know what í want.

‘When I look at you, my heart flutters and my body heats up with desire. I think about you all the time, both of us buttnaked and doing absurdly gymnastic things to each other on every thinkable surface. I especially like the one fanstasy where you corner me in the library and relentlessly press your lips on mine. You pull my hair vigorously, until I gasp. Suddenly you let go, just in time, as the librarian looks around the corner and tells us to hush. When she’s gone, you immediately claim my mouth again, deepening your kiss, forcing your tongue in my mouth. Your trousers can barely contain your enormous boner. You grind your hips against mine to create some friction. We kiss until our lips bleed. The blood arouses you just as much as it does me. We keep grinding our hips together. Without making a sound we both come between the p- and q-section.'

I stop a minute for well timed impact and look at him. His face doesn’t betray a thing, I have to give him that. But his breathing has become just slightly more jagged, pupils a tad bit dilated. I smirk maliciously as I continue.

‘I was incredibly sad when I walked in on dear John and you that day, in the kitchen, kissing until your lips bruised. You broke my heart and I don’t think it will ever mend again. I wish John and you all the best.’ I sob. My petite audience laughs. But Sherlock looks hurt.

‘Preposterous’, Sherlock curses as he gets up and walks away, out of the theatre. Huh? Was I wrong about his preferences? Did I push him too far?

‘Damn, you’ve hurt his feelings!’, Mickey says. ‘After him!’

<<\------*-@-*----->>

**Circling prey**

I grab my purse and follow him, but his long legs cover more ground than mine. A bit out of breath I catch up. Panting I ask ‘what was that about?’ 

A self assured smile is on his lips. He looks sideways at me and tells me ‘I knew leaving like this would peak your interest. I needed you to follow me to my home as quickly as you could.’

‘Why?’

He chuckles darkly. ‘You know why’. My heart fills with a strange anticipation.

 

We’re at his home, this is my last moment to back the hell off. But curiosity gets the better of me, so I follow his lead as he opens the door. It’s a beautiful place. I put my purse on a posh looking, well used Victorian chair and walk up to the fireplace to inspect some body parts in stark water. A few logs are smoldering. I watch little speckles of fire emitting from them. Innocently I look up at what he’s doing. 

Sherlock locks the door and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. I wonder what’s coming.

‘You didn’t think I would forget your invitation, did you?’

Shit. Of course I thought he would’ve forgotten by now. How silly. It’s Sherlock freakin’ Holmes we’re talking about! He turns around to face me, glueing my eyes to his. His eyes are tainted with lust. His voice is even lower than usual. It sends shivers down my spine. Fuck. I’m screwed.

He covers the distance between us in three steps and pushes his body against mine. I feel his hips grind against my own and his torso brushes against my breasts. Urgently, he starts pushing me towards the wall. I’m in sooo much trouble now.

I hit the wall with a forceful thud. It slams the breath right out of me. Sherlock pins me to the wall.

‘What are you doing?’, I ask. I lift my hands to push him away, but he grabs them and holds them against the wall, high above me. So much for using my hands to stop him.

‘You’ve participated in so many parts, you adore fairytales, even your name sounds like one, so you of all people should understand that wishes aren’t always the wisest of choices, Miss Sue White’. He looks at me with a devious smile and kisses me. Hard. On the lips.

‘What do you think you’re doing, you pompous fucker?’ My voice comes out just a little more high pitched than it usually does.

‘Oh, I intend to do exactly that what you propose, my dearest Miss White’. He smiles wolfishly. I’m starting to understand how little red riding hood must’ve felt when she asked the wolf about his teeth.

 

He secures me against the wall with his knee. His face is so close, I can see tiny golden specks in his irises. 

He whispers cruelly ‘I’m going to fuck you until you beg for mercy. And then I’m gonna fuck you some more, just because I can. And don’t think you can stop it, I know you want this just as much as I do’.

<<\------*-@-*----->>

**Let the smut begin!**  

Okay, that does it. My legs feel like jelly and my mouth has gone dry, while another part of me is very quickly becoming quite the opposite.

‘And maybe, just maybe, because you liked it so much, I’m going to do the same Tom did to you. Would you like me to?’

I think I’m gonna faint. How does he know I like being overpowered? His lips are exceptionally close. I can smell his breath. He smells of cigarettes, honey and that awful chamomile tea they serve at the theatre.

His right hand takes over both of my hands and pushes them even harder against the wall. His left hand strokes from my hair to my cheeks, down, even lower. It halts around my neck.

‘You have a perfect, pale neck’, he breathes against my lips. ‘I would love to get my hands on it’. I shiver, and start to panick a bit. Is this still a game?

‘But first you must tell me’, he asks, ‘are you green?’. 

What? Oh. Ever so observing Sherlock.

‘Green’, I reply. My voice is hoarse.

‘Good’, he says, ‘I thought so. Now, I’ve been looking at those lips the whole day. The way they made fun of me. The way they talk with that arousing little lisp you have. I’m sure they can do a lot more than just talking. Open up.’

I part my lips without hesitation. He claims them with a forceful kiss. Damn, my teeth hurt, and I close my lips.

‘Did I tell you you could close that cocksucking mouth?’ He asks angrily. I love it when he swears. His right hand leaves my hands and goes down to my hair. He pulls my curls. Hard. A bit too hard. I scream. His darkened eyes look at me.

‘Green?’ ‘Green.’ I like hair pulling. A lot.

His lips take possession of mine again. He bites them, licks them and pulls them with his teeth. Then he forces his tongue in and starts taunting mine. I whimper. This man is skilled. Makes me wonder what else he’s skilled at. Brain, don’t go there.

He shifts a bit. Wow. I can feel his hardness pressing. ‘Please tell me that’s a gun in your pocket?’ I try to release some tension with a corny joke.

‘Oh, wouldn’t you love it to be? Imagine what I could do with a gun. Are you? Imagining?’

Shiiiiiiit, I am. I’m thinking of sucking it clean. Opening my mouth for the nuzzle, licking it, leaving my spit all over it. Trusting him with the gun in his hand, being at his mercy. Moving it down, over my breast and...

He reads me. He laughs. ‘Oh my, you are a naughty one, aren’t you? We shall save the gun for next time, íf you are a good girl.’

He loosens his grip a bit. I know just what to do. I push him away with all my force. It takes him by surprise (or he’s a better actor than I am). He stumbles over a chair and falls down. He curses.

What will I do? The front door is locked. Sherlock is in front of the stairs, already getting on his feet again. So I run. But of course, running in a house you don’t know isn’t the best idea ever.

  <<\------*-@-*----->>

**The bedroom**

I open the only other door, to find myself in the master bedroom. The windows are shut. I can’t escape.

The door opens and he’s standing there. With a scary grin and an equally scary groin. Damn, it’s big! ‘Thank you, that just saved me the trouble of carrying you into my bedroom’.

He licks his lips and looks at me. Arousel taints his voice even lower. ‘I want you to take your dress off.’ I look at him. His husky voice goes straight to my belly. I start unfastening my buttons.

‘Slowly’, he says, ‘ I want to get a good view of you’. I slow down. My fingers tremble.

‘So lovely’, he exclaims as he unzips his pants, taking out his cock. He pumps it slowly, as he keeps watching my fingers and the skin that comes free. He looks enthralled, his breathing becomes a bit uneven.

When I’ve gotten all my buttons opened, he puts on a condom and orders me to get on my knees. ‘Suck me. Touch your breasts while doing it. And if your teeth hurt me, I’ll hurt you back’.

Intrigued I start licking his cock and balls. He moans. My lips get around his hardness and I start sucking softly, while slowly teasing him with my lips and the tip of my tongue. I increase the tempo a bit. When his breathing gets tattered, I take him in even deeper. His cock slides up and down in my throat, as deep and far as I can take him. His hands grope my hair.

I really like giving fellatio. I’m told I’m quite good at it. Sherlock’s sighs and grunts confirm it. But I wonder what he has in store when I disobey.

I decide to use just a teensy bit of teeth. I see his smile twitch a bit. He’s been expecting this. Of course he did. He’s fucking Sherlock Holmes. No wait, if we keep this up, I’m starting to think I’m gonna be fucking Sherlock Holmes. Long. Hard. Until my brains pop out.

Sherlock tangles his hand in my curls and pulls me up callously. He pushes me fiercely on the bed. The bed feels soft, cool and promising.

I yell: ‘you sick mother fucker, it hurts!’. He lays on top of me and silences me with his hand. For a second, I can’t breathe. It frightens me. Will he know when to stop? I don’t know him all that well. He immediately removes his hand.

‘Green?’ ‘Red’. I really don’t like suffocating. He keeps his hands from my mouth from then on.

Crushing me with his weight, he grins. ‘What ever will I do with you?’ My mind flashes, I can think of a thousand things I want him to do with me. He kisses me again, a bit softer, more gentle this time.

Oh Sherlock, I think, we can’t have that, now can we? So I bite his lip. Not very hard, but hard enough to make it bleed. I taste his coppery, warm blood.

He looks at me with severe desire. I think I almost come undone and feeling the state of his cock, he’s close too. Sherlock might have deduced what í like in bed, but I sure as hell know what hé likes now.

He lifts his torso, so he’s straddling me with his legs. ‘What an impudent, disrespectful little vixen you are.’ He raises his hand.

Oh my, this is turning out even better than I had foreseen. My eyes turn wide, but I can see he’s unsure if it’s with lust or fear. ‘Green’ I whisper with bated breath.

He hits me hard. I can feel his imprint on my check, it feels warm and for a second my cheek seems to be connected directly to my cunt. A loud moan leaves my mouth. Holy fuck, I’m wetter than Spongebob taking a bath.

‘This what happens when you disobey me’, he tells me. I look at him challenging, he returns my gaze hungrily. We both know I’ll be doing a whole lot more disobeying from now on.

‘Take off your knickers, right now’, he demands, eyes expectant.

‘No room, you’re straddling me’ I hiss. He gives me a bit more space. I reach down, but instead of removing my knickers, I try to scratch him ferociously. Unfortunately he’s quicker.

His hand takes mine and forces them once again over my head. I try to wriggle them free, but he’s too strong.

‘Willful, are we?’ His other hand goes down on my neck and strokes it. I feel a trail of tingling sensations where his hand brushes. He squeezes my neck just so I feel his strength. I whimper.

His caressing lowers, over my collarbones, down to my breasts. He plays with my nipple until it’s hard as a cherry pit. I’ve never been so aroused in my life, I think I’m leaving wet spots on the bed.

Out of the blue he twists my nipple deliciously hard. Tears spring into my eyes and I let out a surprised sob. ‘Green?’ ‘Green’.

His hand goes down, lower, leaving marks over my belly and finally it settles on my knickers. ‘You refused to take the chance to do it yourself. Such a pity, it was rather a lovely pair’. He tears the little garment off.

Still holding my hands tightly, he reaches in his dresser and pulls out some lube. I wonder why he needs it, I’m already dripping with the thought of him taking me. Why would he need the lube?

 

Oh...

 

‘A bit slow on the intake, aren’t we? You had your moment, but decided to make a fuss’. 

‘Please don’t do that. Anything but that’ I beg.

His lust filled eyes study me intensely. ‘Green?’ ‘Green’

He swiftly opens the bottle with his teeth and puts some on his free fingers. Slowly, carefully, even tenderly he encircles my entrance. He must know I’ve never done this before. Without rushing, he moves it gently around the rim, before pushing it in.

Mindful he thrusts it deeper. It hurts, but not enough to tell him to stop. One finger becomes two, and three, and suddenly I see a devilish grin on his lips.

‘You’re ready?’While I’m appraising how far I can challenge him, I’m afraid I’ll lose my courage to go through with this. So barely visible I nod. He releases my hands and pushes up my legs. He presses his cock at my entrance. I tremble with anticipation and a bit of fright.

Calmly he pushes it in, inch by inch. It hurts and I whimper. A small look of concern flitters over him, but as he sees my craving doesn’t diminish, hunger fills his eyes again.

Gradually, smoothly he presses on, until he’s fully immersed. It aches substantially, and I’m getting trouble to relax.

‘Green?’ ‘Yellow'. He looks at me concerned and starts to pull out, but I stop him. 

‘Make me loosen up’. The crooked smile returns. His fingers seek out my clit.

‘Look at how aroused you are’ he tells me, voice low with approval.

Teasingly he starts circling my pleasure spot. My breathing becomes irregular.

‘My, my, someone’s eager to get their dopamine levels up.’ His fingers do magic. He slides one finger in my slit, while this thumb keeps taunting my nub. My moans become louder and more frequent.

I’m close, but obviously he won’t let me come just yet.

‘Obviously’ Can this man stop reading my mind?

His thumb leaves my clitorus. Considerately, even gently he starts moving his cock inside me. It still feels a bit sore, but every time it gets too overwhelming, his thumb finds my clit. I smile. His breathing becomes ragged and his eyes are dark pools of raw desire. He’s close, as am I. 

He thrusts in inside me, picking up speed. My hands tangle in his soft, curly hair. His thumb keeps circling my ludicrously wet cunt and just as I think I can’t stand it anymore, he pushes me expertly over the edge.

‘Sherlock’ I cry out loudly and pull his hair. Pleasure rushes through me and I’m starting to see stars. The smile has left his face, what’s left is a sweaty determination as he keeps on thrusting. His heavy breathing turns into moaning and his eyes fix on mine. Damn, this man is hot!

Sherlock gasps and freezes as his orgasm ripples through him. His mouth opens in a silent scream, his beautiful long neck jerks up, his eyes close. His face looks absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Sherlock’s arms give way and he falls heavily on top of me. We’re both panting raggedy. Sherlock opens his eyes and looks at me. His hand strokes a few strands of hair out of my face. I’m not sure what to make of his gaze. When his breathing returns to normal, he pushes himself up a bit.

Carefully, almost caring, Sherlock pulls his now half flaccid cock back. I sigh at the break of contact. He gets up to remove the condom and puts it in the trash. His movement is a lot more experienced than I had suspected.

 

**‘Freeze!’**

In improv theatre one can freeze a scene.

Which ending do you prefer? I’ll let you choose. A little warning though: not all endings are equally satisfying, some even darkish.

 


	2. Smut Galore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you choose this ending, oi? Sounds good. A safe and consensual ending. I would choose a more darkish one, I suppose... But hey, it's up to you!

Sherlock’s arms give way and he falls heavily on top of me. We’re both panting raggedy. Sherlock opens his eyes and looks at me. His hand strokes a few strands of hair out of my face. I’m not sure what to make of his gaze. When his breathing returns to normal, he pushes himself up a bit.

Carefully, almost caring, Sherlock pulls his now half flaccid cock back. I sigh at the break of contact. He gets up to remove the condom and puts it in the trash. His movement is a lot more experienced than I had suspected.

He turns around abruptly. ‘You thought I was inexperienced?’ Why does he keep reading my mind?

I giggle a bit. He looks puzzled, not entirely sure if I’m making fun of him.

‘Well, I might have, but definitely wouldn’t make that suggestion anymore. It might get me into more mishap, and I think my arse won’t be able to take much more today. I'll be having enough trouble sitting for a few days as it is.’ I reply, while stroking my rather sore butt.

‘You might want to make that a week, amateur’, he replies smugly. I snigger. He returns to the bed and starts laughing too.

When we recover, his hands go back to my hair. I carefully place my arms around his waist, not knowing if he likes to be in such close contact. A content sigh escapes my lips.

‘I didn’t push you too far did I?’ Suddenly he looks a bit vulnerable. That’s... unexpected sweet.

I grin deviously ‘Did you push me? I hadn’t noticed’.

‘You...?’ for a moment he look puzzled.

‘I loved it, you fretting ferret. You can push me anytime, anywhere en anyhow you see fit. For a genius, you can be rather daft, Sherlock.’ He throws his head back and starts laughing again. His mouth claims mine once more and we kiss intensely. I think my lips will look more voluptuous than Pamela Anderson’s when we finish.

While Sherlock deepens the kiss, I get the feeling I’m forgetting something. Oh yeah! Adam!

‘Sherlock, about the case?’ I ask a little breathless between kisses.

‘Oh, Raul did it. I deduced he saw Tom kissing Adam and got upset. Waited for the lover to go away and strangled Adam. He put the key back in Adam’s pocket and closed the door with the master key of the hotel. I knew for sure the instant I saw the hotel clerk looking at Raul’s butt that he was the one who gave him the key. It wasn’t even a five case.’

What?! He knew all along?

He returns to kissing me. I nudge him away.

‘Why did you take it then?’ I ask, disbelieving. He couldn’t have been that bored.

‘Because you mentioning a reward peaked my interest. I was extremely curious of how far I could push you in a little game of consensual non-con roleplay.’ A confident smirk settles on his plush lips. He doesn’t even feign having had a doubt of getting me in his bed.

‘Which was, as I might add, pleasantly far.’ He gently strokes my already blackening cheek.

‘You...’ I untangle my arms and slap him on his cheek. He takes my hand.

‘I believe that’s my cue, not yours’, a little glimmer of cruel want sets in his eyes. He lets his other hand pull my hair with just enough force. I moan and feel myself getting ready for round two. Judging by the forming bulge in his trousers, I’m not the only one.

I shove him back, my eyes glinting with challenge. ‘If you want anything, come and get it’.

I swiftly get on my feet and start running again. Where to? I think I’m very interested what he can do to me on his kitchen counters. With all those knives present.

So I make it to the kitchen, ensuring he can corner me as rapidly as he sees fit.

He’s right behind me, treading a slow but confident step. I turn around to find his eyes returned to their hungry state, his lips twisting into a predatory grin, hands reaching for the cutlery drawer.

Oh my, this looks promising...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not satisfactory enough? Try a different ending; If you dare.


	3. A Scared Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first ending not satisfactory enough? Maybe this one will suit you better.
> 
> A little warning though: this ending is non-consensual and there's (attempted) strangling in it. If this triggers you, please skip this ending.

Carefully, almost caring, Sherlock pulls his now half flaccid cock back. I sigh at the break of contact. He gets up to remove the condom and puts it in the trash. His movement is a lot more experienced than I had suspected. 

I watch him standing there, his wiry frame, his muscular back, that stunning neckline. How I would love to get my hands on that sinewy neck. Deciding I’ve played around enough, I swiftly get up on my feet.

Sherlock abruptly turns around and looks at me sharply. Took him long enough.

‘What gave me away?' I ask him.

‘Your intense gaze and badly concealed longing while staring at the column of my neck just now? Obviously'.

Suddenly his hands go up to my neck. ‘Is this how you did it?’ He asks, as his hands grasp my throat.

‘No, you used one hand, you needed the other to confine him.’ Slowly, he starts pushing my neck.

‘Yes, one could undoubtedly pull it off with one hand. If, that is, you are strong enough.’ I feel his hand bruising my neck.

‘Yes’, I tell him hoarse, ‘I must say it took you quite some time to get your facts straight, dear Sherlock. but if you’re really that curious, I’ll show you’.

I push him off me. He looks surprised and stumbles on the floor. Maybe he forgot I used to be a judo champion?

I use the momentum to get on top of him and pin him to the floor in a nice judo-embrace. Well done, if I may say so myself. No way of freeing yourself now, I chuckle deviously. He looks boggled.

‘Don’t even think of pushing me off, or I’ll make sure this fucking ends as it did with poor ol' Adam', I tell him.

His eyes grow wide. Is he scared? The great Sherlock Holmes, all alone with me, little me, all panicky?

I feel powerful as my hand goes up to his long, pale, delicious neck, while my other restrains his hands.

‘Stop this’, he tries to sound confident, but his deep baritone quivers as he speaks, ‘you’re hurting me. We’ve had fun, but our game ends here and now’.

‘Oh, but why would you think that? You indeed had fun, it’s time I have some of my own’, my hand presses more tightly.

'If you stop now, I won’t tell anyone. I won’t even remember’. He’s sobbing a bit. It turns me on.

‘But I want to remember’, I tell him, this time it’s my eyes that turn dark with hunger.

‘I think about Adam constantly, how I was in control of his life. How it seeped away with every push.’ He tries to wriggle himself free.

‘Stop it, or I’ll make it hurt even more’ I bite out, baring my teeth in a twisted grin. Oh, I’ve waited so long for this.

‘The choice is yours. Stupid Sherlock Holmes. You didn’t even deduce that it was me all along, now did you? Look where it got you’.

Sherlock whines. ‘Please, I don't want to die this way'.

‘You want to know how I did it, right? When Adam left our little party, I texted Mickey with the phone I stole from Tom. She went to find him at a rendezvous point conveniently on the other side of town, but of course he wasn’t there.’ I smile, that was an ingenuous move, if I say so myself.

‘I told her the police would find that really suspicious when we found Adam, so we should be each other’s alibi.’ I release a bit of pressure, as Sherlock won’t last long enough to hear all my clever explanations if I keep up the pace.

‘The stupid bitch agreed. She was so grateful I helped her out of this predicament. Of course, when she was on her pheromone induced manhunt, I was having a lot of fun on my own.’ I cackle villainously.

‘Adam thought he had a delightful shag in store with a hot young man. He didn’t even notice I was there, until I pinned him to the bed.’ I squeeze a bit harder again. Sherlock’s eyes are aghast with horror now.

‘I was so sick of the bastard. Always thinking he was the dominant one. Well, I fixed that, didn’t I? I made him scream and beg, until he couldn’t find the air to do so anymore. I watched his last breath leave his lungs until he went flaccid. His eyes frozen in terror. It was so arousing, I had to pleasure myself before I could clean up the scene, lock the door and get back downstairs.’ I feel my nipples get hard just thinking about it.

‘I didn’t think I would get a change again so soon, but there you were, practically throwing yourself at me.’ How I’ve longed to touch that perfect throat every time I saw Sherlock, it’s finally time.

‘Now, where were we? Oh yeah, at the part where I strangle that lovely, soft neck of yours.’

Suddenly Sherlock’s gaze transitions. What the heck?

‘Okay, Lestrade, did you get all that? You can take her away now’. Sherlock pushes me off him (why is he so strong all of a sudden?).

Before I know it, there’s a police officer getting out of the closet. He cuffs me. The cuffs feel cold on my hot wrists.

Realization dawns on me. He knows, that smug bastard, probably always has known.

‘Fuck you, Sherlock Holmes!’, I shout, kicking at him. The officer restrains me.

‘Oh, I think I just did’, he replies coolly, as the police officer leads me away.


	4. A Nasty Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a bit of non-con strangling in this one, so if this isn't your cup of tea, please skip.  
> Sue is in for a bit of a surprise. Or two, But not all surprises are nasty, are they now?

Carefully, almost caring, Sherlock pulls his now half flaccid cock back. I sigh at the break of contact. He gets up to remove the condom and puts it in the trash. His movement is a lot more experienced than I had suspected.

Sherlock whirls around. 'Now for the matter at hand' he tells me and looks at my neck.

‘Yes, that will do quite nicely' he hums to himself.

‘Phone' I give him my phone. He unlocks it with a few quick strokes. Of course the smug bastard guesses my code. Without looking up he raises one eyebrow. 'I deduce, I never guess' I roll my eyes. He starts texting.

‘What are you doing?'

‘Luring him out'

‘What are you planning to use as bait?’ I ask him.

‘Well, you. Obvious.’

I roll my eyes again. If we keep this up, I’m sure I’ll get a severe case of eyemusclestrain. ‘Don’t I have a say in this? It’s my neck on the line!’

‘Nonsense. You love the thrill of it’, he tells me. Of course he is right. He jumps on his feet and starts rummaging through his costumes. He takes out a gorgeous blue dress, with a low neckline. ‘Yes, this is perfect. Undress’.

‘Uhm, I think we should go on a proper date first, Sherlock’. I bet my eyes innocently.

‘That wasn’t a problem for you earlier, as I recall.’ He retorts, eyes squinting naughty.

I put on the dress. It feels lavishly soft. It’s a bit tight around the bust, my breasts are practically popping out and my neck looks even longer than it is. ‘Sherlock?’ 

‘Hmm?’

‘There’s this thing about my knickers?’

‘Just leave them off. The dress is long enough. Besides, I prefer you without undergarments’. My breath hitches in my throat.

I start putting on the stiletto heels Sherlock hands me. ‘Let’s go’. Sherlock gets up and I follow.

Sherlock brings me up to speed on our way. I end up alone in a secluded alleyway, with no knickers and my boobs struggling to stay in my dress. What will people think? 'You have a bad influence, Sherlock, making me look like a freakin’ streetworker!' I whisper.

‘Oh, you manage to do that all by yourself, darling’, I hear a deep voice coming from behind a dumpster. I grin. ‘Now hush’ he tells me, just in time.

A figure is entering the alley. ‘Hello, Tom’ I greet him, with a steady voice.

Tom gets closer. He looks at me appraisingly, his eyes linger at the column of my neck. I swallow.

'Hello Sue.'

I feel akward. 'Glad you could make it. I wanted to talk to you'.

'I thought your text was clear enough'.

'I want to hear it from you. Why you did it.'

'Let's cut the crap, you’re here for the money'. A female voice. Where from? I look around. A second figure appears. ‘Mickey?’

'There’s always something', Sherlock mutters almost inaudible from behind the dumpster.

‘Yes, it’s me. Suprised?’

Mickey? Why is she there? Oh no, he must’ve used her love for him to make her do bad things. ‘Did he hurt you, Mickey?’ I ask.

Mickey throws back her head in rather maniacal laughter. ‘Oh, spare me the bullshit. You seriously never noticed Tom and I getting together? You must be even dafter than I thought. Self-centered bitch’

My brain shortcircuits. Mickey? And Tom? A sudden understanding makes me gasp. Mickey, my best friend? A cold blooded murderer? It’s just not possible. Or is it?

‘Why?’ My voice comes out small.

‘I like danger. I’m attracted to it. Tom and I make a dangerously great couple. But I don’t ever want to die, you know. I want spend an eternity having fun. So I started reading about life essence, squeezed out of young people, to prolong your own lifespan. It was just the thing I needed, besides, it sounded sexy.

But I was getting sick of just talking and reading about it. I wanted to féél. To explore. Lucky for me, Tom shares my interest. Don’t you, dear?’

Tom eyes Mickey hungrily. ‘Yes, love’.  

Mickey puts her arm possessively around him. Do I even know this woman, of whom I thought she was my best friend?

‘I didn’t want to start with a petty thing like torture or rape. We wanted a Big Bang. We decided it had to be murder.’ Mickey emerald eyes are blazing.

‘Why Adam?’

‘It was a difficult choice, but Adam always liked the danger in Tom. So we just knew we could lure him out. But it was a very close call.’ She looks me up and down, her lips curl up in a devilish, contorted smile. She makes a dementor look cute and cuddly.

‘But why would you let Tom have all the pleasure?’ I try to get on her level, but it makes me nauseous.

‘Oh, but we did it together, right, dear? You held his lovely wrists rather capable, while I throttled his silly little neck. I felt the life leaving his body. I think I absorbed some of his life energy. But I was messy and clumpsy. Next time I’ll make sure I’ll get all of the essence’.

Together? But how? I was with Mickey all evening.

‘Oh, you’re wondering how I did that when I was with you? Should we tell her, love?’

Not waiting for Tom to answer, she tells me: ‘You made it real easy, now. Drinking all those Gin and tonics with me. Very easy to slip something in. When we went upstairs, you could barely walk. Remember?’

I do. I thought I had so much to drink, I couldn’t keep straight. I remember getting off the elevator and collapsing. After that, everything is a bit blurry. I remember Mickey helping me up. And Tom.Wait. Why was Tom there too?

‘Tom in the hallway, both of us so excited, you there, incapable of movement. I had to restrain him, didn’t I, dear?’ She giggles, but it’s not the kind of childish giggle we have shared so many times.

The blur lifts just a bit. Tom! I recall Tom groping me, exchanging urgent whispers with Mickey. Mickey telling him to stop for now, because she needs me as an alibi, but allowing him to touch my breasts for a moment.

‘Oh yeah, she remembers now, the stupid slut. While you were sleeping it off, we were having loads of fun with Adam. The feeling wasn't mutual though. He didn’t quite see things our way.’ Mickey sniggers.

‘How unfortunate you were out cold. You could have saved him, hadn’t you drank as much g&t’s. You were mere meters away. How does that make you feel, darling Sue? As guilty as you should?’ She looks at me with a malicious glint in her cruel eyes.

‘Tom really had a hard time during rehearsals. So close at taking your life essence, but not being able to finish it, not with all those witnesses and that stupid boyfriend of yours. Oh, he has a nice neck too. Maybe we should add him to our list, right, dear?’ Her hand reaches for Tom’s crotch. She caresses it for a few seconds.

‘Well, enough of that. Let's get to the matter at hand. How much do you want?'

'Oh, you could never afford what I want to keep silent'. My confidence returns.

'Really now? I think we can give you something to stay silent. I think you made it exceptionally easy for us. Again. You know it should've been you? I really wanted it to be. Tom here thought it would be much easier if we started with Adam. So we did. But look who came to offer herself on a plate?' Mickey chuckles as she comes closer, circling me.

'Do you want to do the strangling this time?' Mickey asks, as she grabs my arms from behind. Tom looks pleased.

‘Would you let me?' He purrs, looking at her longingly, a bulge forming in his pants.

‘Of course, my doll. Make it a pleasure to watch, okay?', Mickey adds as she licks a stripe on my neck.

Tom lifts his hands, locking them into place. He starts pressing slowly. This has gone far enough. I put my high heel down on Mickeys foot with as much force I can muster.

‘Stupendous bitch!’ She squeals.

‘Sherlock? Some help would be nice' I yell as I use a nice nage-waza on Mickey while kicking my high heeled foot at Tom's groin. 

‘Why? You seem to be doing rather nicely without me', Sherlock replies as he swiftly gets up from behind the dumpster.

Tom hands let go of my throat, holding his crotch with a sore face. He doubles over and vomits. I suspect that getting kicked in his stiff manhood must've been a rather unpleasant experience for him.

Mickey grabs handful of my hair and pulls it out. Damn, that hurts! I whirl around and hit her hard. Her fingers go down to my face. She tries to push my eyeballs in. I punch her Adam’s apple, as I kick her in the kneecaps.

Mickey staggers backwards, gasping for breath. No wonder they call ‘em stiletto heels, I think sniggering.Sherlock grabs hold of her. She kicks at me, enraged and full of fury.

‘This is quite enough’, he rumbles, as he holds her down.

Suddenly, the whole alley is drenched in blue lights. Lestrade, one of Sherlock’s friends in the police force, gets out of the police car. He cuffs a whimpering Tom, who’s still doubled over and recovering from my kick, and puts him in the car.

Another police officer gets out and takes Mickey from Sherlock. She’s screeching and kicking like a mad woman. The police struggle to get her in the car.

Lestrade comes up to us. ‘Thank you for your help. I’ll need you both to make a statement’.

‘Dull’, Sherlock replies, ‘Statements are boring. They can wait till morning’.

Lestrade reluctantly agrees, knowing not to push Sherlock too far. The police leave.

‘That was a skillful kick. Remind me not to get on your bad side’ he tells me.

Is this a compliment? From Sherlock? Wow.

‘Are you all right?’ He askes, eyes locking with mine.

‘I think the physical part will mend soon, I’m not so sure about the mental part of just losing my best friend and almost half of my theatre group.’ My lip shakes a bit. I think I’m more affected than I like to admit.

Sherlock strokes my hair. ‘Maybe I can provide some distraction? Or are you still hurting from our previous encounter?’ He kisses me gently. I know just the distraction I need for now.

‘It’s still a bit sore. Not wearing underwear helps though.’ I tell him, a little challenge returning in my eyes.

He looks intensely at me. ‘About those knickers’ he replies, as he gropes under my dress. I feel myself getting wet in an instant. His skillful fingers enter my slit. He feels the wetness and looks at me approving.

‘My my...’ His fingers start circling, his mouth claims mine. Very soon I’m close.

‘Please come for me’ his voice a husky rumble, pupils blown. I tremble and try to hold back a moan. I fail. I start seeing stars, my breathing is uneven, my moaning increases. My legs give way as Sherlock makes me come undone. He catches me before I fall. Panting I lean into his embrace. My hand finds his hardness, but Sherlock brushes it softly aside.

‘There’s time enough for that. For now you need to rest. Let’s get home. You can sleep it off in my bed.’ He gently helps me up my feet and supports me home. I put my head on his shoulder and to my surprise he puts his cheek tenderly against my curls.

This week I lost my best friend Mickey and Adam, my favorite counterpart, but I also gained something. Something that looks a bit like... a beginning love affair?

 


	5. There's a Dark Side in Everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh-kay... This one just wrote itself. I'm sorry, okay?! This is the darkest one. You should immediately skip this one if you have a problem with death, strangulation, suffocating, scary people, etc. Ending 5 will be better, I swear. 
> 
> So... you should probably skip this one.
> 
> Really.
> 
> You're still here?
> 
> Just as I thought. You're just as perverted as I was, when I was insanely enjoying myself, writing this lugubre ending. Well, I hope you'll enjoy! Let me know if you did!

Carefully, almost caring, Sherlock pulls his now half flaccid cock back. I sigh at the break of contact. He gets up to remove the condom and puts it in the trash. His movement is a lot more experienced than I had suspected.

Sherlock turns around and looks at me. There’s a different look in his eyes, I’m not sure what to make of it yet, but I don’t think like it. Sherlock returns to the bed. ‘That was a delicious... start.’ He breathes against my skin. It makes the hairs on my back stand up.

Gently he starts stroking my throat. His tongue licks a stripe up my neck. ‘Do you know every person has pulse points? One of them is here and here' his fingers gently press on my neck.

‘Right between your windpipe and neck muscles.’ His long fingers check my pulse.

 ‘Your heart rate is still well above average from our little game’ he tells me. I shiver.

 ‘One has to be really careful when palpating someone here. Stimulating baroreceptors with low palpitation can slow down or even stop the heart. You should never press both pulse points at the same time’ he tells me, now pressing both hands on my neck.

‘Doing so limits the flow of blood to the head, possibly leading to dizziness or fainting or even...’ His eyes are getting darker again. 'Death'. A glint of longing passes over him. Suddenly he releases me and gets up again. He walks into the bathroom. My heart races.

What just happened? I decide not to wait for it and get up and get dressed. Hurriedly I get my belongings.

Where’s my bag? I see it on the big Victorian chair in the living room. As silently as possible, I run to it. As I reach for it, my fingers feel something cold between the cushions of the chair. I retrieve it. It’s Adam’s phone.

Why would it be here?

Oh no. 

Oh no-no-no.

 

Realization leaves my throat dry. I make a dash for the front door, remembering too late it’s locked.

I hear a wicked chuckle. ‘Leaving so soon?’ I whirl around. Again Sherlock covers the distance in a few steps. 

I scream, but his hand reaches my mouth before I can make a sound.

‘I thought you liked it a bit rough. Perhaps I was wrong’. He starts circling my neck with his free hand. Pushing ever so gently with his fingers tips against my pulse point. Not stopping his ministrations with his fingers, his thumb presses my windpipe. I feel it bruising. His other hand joins the first, his fingertips gently caressing, thumb pressing.

It hurts. ‘Red’ I try to yell, but my voice comes out a hoarse whisper. ‘Red, Sherlock, red’.

Specks of white enter my vision. ‘We’re not playing that game anymore, Miss White. This time Í set the rules. I wish you wwould at least make an effort to keep up’.

His hands squeeze more violently. My vision becomes blurry. I’m scared. His eyes are now ravenously dark, with brutal want in them.

** Freeze! ** You can choose now. A sort of happy-ish ending? Or a darkish one? The choice is up to you.

** The happier ending **

Suddenly the door crashes open. A woman cop rushes in. ‘I knew it would get to this, you freak!’ She yells at him, shoving him of me and trying to cuff him.

Coughing I fall on the floor. I try to inhale long, deep breaths. Vaguely I hear him hissing and kicking at the detective.

‘I am the great Sherlock Holmes. No one has the power to detain me.’ More cops come in and overpower him. They cuff him and take him away.

One friendly looking cop kneels beside me. He has grayish, short hair and a kind face.

‘Are you all right, lass?’ He asks me. I can’t seem to produce any sound yet, so I shake my head. He sits next to me, to offer some comfort.

‘The paramedics are on their way. You’re lucky we used a new technology to find Adam’s switched off phone and found it here. I’m glad we were just in time.’ I lean against him and start to sob inaudible.

‘There, there’, he puts his arm around me. ‘You poor thing.’ I lean into his embrace and let go.

 

** The not so happy ending **

I black out a bit. I think I see Adam. He cries, struggles and sobs. I must be losing consciousness.

‘Yes, he struggled’ Sherlock tells me, his baritone a sinister drawl.

‘Why don’t you? I would prefer you did too. It will make it more... pleasurable’. He breaths against my mouth. 

That moment I know I’m gonna die here. The game has been played. I lost, but I’m not going to give this fucking bastard what he wants.

Behind my back I find my phone in my purse. With my last strength I text Mickey that Sherlock did this to me. As I press send, Sherlock increases the pressure, holding my neck in a sick embrace. My bag falls to the ground. My legs are suddenly warm.

'Your transport involuntarily releases its body fluids’ Sherlock whispers. ‘You’re in close proximity of death’. He shivers with anticipation.

 It aches. Strands of panic are released into my brain. Stay calm. Don’t give him the pleasure he seeks. My mind starts humming a song I’ve always used to shield myself from panic.  _ 'I walk a lonely road/the only one that I have even known' _ 

As he expands the pressure, the pain does too. Tears well up in my eyes, but no sob escapes me. I won’t give him the satisfaction. _'I don't know where it goes/but it's home to me and I walk alone'_

The dizziness increases. I feel my longs burning and my heart slowing down. _'I walk alone/I walk alone'_

Slowly I slide into oblivion. _‘I walk alone, I...’_

 

Then nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you so. But you read it anyway.
> 
> Next ending will be a lot more angsty in a good way. No terrifying Sherlocks in that one.


	6. Savior Sue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is angsty, but Sherlock's fluffy and helping in this one. Warning, there is talk of suicide in this one, so if you don't dig that or it brings out nasty memories, please don't read it. Seriously.

Carefully, almost caring, Sherlock pulls his now half flaccid cock back. I sigh at the break of contact. He gets up to remove the condom and puts it in the trash. His movement is a lot more experienced than I had suspected.

‘Sherlock’, I ask him, ‘what now?’. Sherlock swirls around and studies me. His scrutinizing look makes me uncomfortable. ‘I’m going to take a shower now’ he replies, ‘after that, we talk’. He swiftly enters the bathroom.

 

BEEP BEEP

 

My phone. I try to make myself somewhat presentable. Which is rather difficult with torn up knickers.  I get up and fetch my bag. I check my phone. It’s a text from Mickey.

‘On a scale from 1 to 10, how senseless are you?' 

I grin and text ‘20’.

‘Ooooooooooooh. I’m counting on a full detailed report, miss White!’, she replies. ‘And on a scale from 1 to 10, how senseless is he?’

‘7’

‘You should’ve tried harder! :-p’ 

‘No seriously, I doubt anyone can shut off that enormous brain, even after our little fun and games. He was looking strangely at me.’

‘Strange?’ 

‘Like he might know, but I’m not sure’. 

I walk over to the kitchen to find a kettle. I put it on to make some tea. As I rummage through his kitchen supplies, I only find Earl Grey and yellow label tea. Yuk. Luckily there’s some ginger laying on the counter. I sniff it suspiciously, but it looks and smells just normal, so I slice it up. There’s a lemon too. I find a somewhat cleanish mug that I rinse in the sink. I put water, ginger and lemon in it and revert my attention to my phone.

‘Sue, be careful, okay? He can’t know, must never know. We owe it to Adam. I knew inviting your hot detective was a bad idea’.

‘Relax, Mick, I’m sure everything will be okay’.

I hear the door of the bathroom open. Sherlock’s footsteps are nearing. He enters the kitchen in his briefs, while toweling his hair dry. Little droplets of sparkly water slide down his slender, muscular torso. My eyes follow them as they slither down into his underpants.

I swallow. His body looks fucking delicious. But his eyes have the same scrutinizing glint that I saw earlier. Sherlock joins me in the kitchen and pours himself a cup too. Without looking at me, he asks: ‘When were you going to tell me?’ I hide behind my tea. Shit.

‘What?’ I feign innocence. He sighs and takes my bag from me. I struggle to get it back, but he gently but firmly pushes me away and reaches in my bag. He retrieves another phone from it. My eyes are shooting daggers, while my hands clench into fists.  

‘You have no right to take my stuff from me!’ My nails scratch his hand badly as I pry the phone away from his grip, tearing away some skin. A small sparkle lights up his gorgeous eyes.

‘However much I would like to explore this new disobedience of yours, we’re in dire need of a profound conversation’. His eyes bore themselves in mine as he reaches for his tea to take a sip. 

‘You can stare all you want, I’m not telling you anything!’ I yell, my fiery eyes maintaining eye contact.

‘I think the police will be very interested in how Adam’s phone got in your possession’, he tells me in a rumbling voice. I look away. My eyes fill up with tears.

‘Best hand me over to them, then’. I try real hard not to blink, but of course my treacherous body doesn’t listen. Soon drops of salty water roll over my cheeks. Sherlock puts down his tea and gently wipes them away.

‘I know you don’t want to discredit him’, he tells me in a quiet voice, ‘but I can’t get you and Mickey off the hook if you’re dishonest’. He takes my hand in his and gently caresses it. My sobbing intensifies. Sherlock lets me. When I calm down a bit, he speaks again.

‘You seem incapable of telling me what happened, so I’ll tell you instead. You try to protect Adam. When Mickey and you arrived in the room, you found him there with a rope from the bedpost to his neck, strangled. I noticed the paint was chipped on the headboard. I think you also found a note. Am I correct?’ Involuntarily my head nods. Damn head, why does it suddenly have a mind of its own?

‘Mickey and you ditched the rope and wiped the room clean, which you managed to do impressively professionally I must add, and took the phone and note, to make it look like a murder. Then you called for the police and did your thing. Because you suddenly found yourself suspects, you decided to invite me.’ I keep silent.

‘The note revealed that Adam had an unrequited love affair. No, wait, that’s not correct. It was an unhealthy one. Domestic violence would explain the bruising on his body.’ 

‘Not just an unhealthy lover,but a brutal rapist’ my voice is barely a whispper.

‘Aha, not only physical, but also sexual abuse. There is always something. Who was it? Tom? No, of course not. Raul? Yes, that makes sense. It's always the quiet ones. Probably couldn’t take it Adam texted someone else. That’s what triggered this?’ 

I clear my throat. ‘I warned Adam time after time his affection was unhealthy. That he needed to end this affair. I offered to kick the fucker out of our group, but Adam wouldn’t let me. He was terrified. That evening he was texting with someone. I don’t know who. He told Raul not to join him. I hoped he finally broke up with the son of a bitch, but I was wrong, so wrong. Reading his last note made that very clear.’ My voice wavers.

'Can I read the note?'

I freeze. What will I do? Hoping I can trust him, I reluctantly unlock Adam's phone. His password being ForeverSue makes me snivel. I go to his notes and show it to Sherlock.

 

'Dear, Dear Sue, 

When you read this, I hopefully will have died. Don’t be sad. It was a self chosen faith which gives me peace of mind.

I love you and I wish it could have been you instead of him. Please don't blame yourself. Know you tried everything to get me out of his grip. I wasn't savable. Didn't want to be saved.

He crossed a new line tonight. I asked him not to come, but he still did. He hurt me, like he always does. Over and over. It aches so much, Sue. I feel so filthy. So undeserving. He thought I was texting you. He threatened to hurt you this time, Sue, if I didn’t obey. I can’t have that, love. He must never touch you. But I can’t fight him anymore. My energy is used up, I’m empty. There is only one way left.

He made me lose all there was to live for. Except for you. Knowing I’m leaving you behind grieves me. It’s the only thing I’m capable of feeling now. I’m done with keeping up appearances. I’m so fucking tired.

Thank you for being my friend. My best and only friend. If it wasn't for you, I would have given up much earlier. I hope I wasn't a burden for you. But I know you, Sue. You would never think of me like that. I’m unworthy of such a precious ally.

I loved our stage moment together. When I put my neck in that noose, I’ll be thinking about you and all the fun we had. It will help ease the pain. I’m crying now, but know I'm not scared. I look forward to the nothingness.

Darling Sue, I hope you'll find your happiness. If it isn’t with that domineering detective you told me about, let it be someone else. They are so fortunate to have you. Promise me you’ll live your life to the fullest.

I’m going to rely on you one last time. No one must ever know. I don't want them to feel sorry for me. I don’t want my parents living with the shame. Please Sue, help me this last time. 

I love you, sweet, sweet Sue. I don't believe in an afterlife, but if there is one, we'll meet again. Goodbye Precious.’ Sherlock lowers the phone.

He is lost in thought. I can see his brain processing. ‘Do you really want to let this psychopath walk free?' He asks me.

'Free? Oh no, definitely not free. What on earth makes you think we’ll let him get away with this? We’re planning a big set up, we’ll compromise him and make sure there’ll be lots of incriminating photos to support our claims. I’ll discredit him even further and sack him. We’ll make sure he never gets another job. When he thinks he can’t sink any lower, we will find something. We’ll fucking destroy him!’ I’m shouting now. My eyes are blazing, I’m a bit out of breath after my fierce monologue. 

Sherlock gaze fixes on me. ‘Is this what you really want?’ he asks.

‘Yes’, I tell him from the bottom of my heart.

‘Then I deduce you’re in need of a master schemer. Call that malicious fairy woman and let’s get to work’. Suddenly he gets up in a burst of energy and starts collecting things from his bedroom. He returns with a pair of boxers 

‘I thought you might need these. By the way, domineering detective? We’ll have to talk about that.’ I grin. Things will work out just fine. Adam’s secret is safe. Revenge is imminent. This day is looking good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no... This is the last one! If you have a request for an ending though, you can leave it behind in the comments. If I have time, I just might be tempted to write yet another ending. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading this!

**Author's Note:**

> As this is my first fic ever, I really would love feedback and kudos (only if you like it, of course!). Is it good enough? Should I try and write another fic? I'm quite insecure about my writing, so please let me know.
> 
> If you have an ending you would like, please tell me in the comments. I'll try to write it.


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